I wonder where you are, I wonder if you think about me
Once upon a time in your wildest dreams
Justin Hayward
Well, friends, matters have devolved to the point where for the second time in a finite span of weeks, I’m resorting to the Moody Blues. Who I don’t even like very much. And the quote I selected is from a song that does not even appear on the album from which I purloined our title (and which may be identical to that of my last Moody-go-round).
I turn to this, though, because of something I read (where else?) on the Journal Editorial page. A warning to be careful of your present, because someday it becomes your past.
It was presented as advice issued by the author’s mum. And I think she has a point.
Because one thing we ALL have is a past. Even me. I have a past. And, while, if you look carefully, you might encounter a few checkers, I at least can’t think of a single in-the-moment action I have taken that would stand me into disgrace for all time.
The column in question took the form of a guidance to that goofball/knucklehead George Santos – whose recent Congressional victory catalyzed some tragically-after-the-fact diligence on his ass, the latter of which revealed that he is a pathologically pathological liar. The article went on to inform (I did not know this) that he stands accused of having committed forgery in Brazil 15 years ago.
At the time, there was no official action taken by their Federales. But now, the Brazilian government is re-opening the investigation. How timely. One wonders, though, what favors their newly elected, quadruple-named President Luiz Inacio Lula da Silva extracted, and from whom, in consideration of his renewed interest in the case. One way or another, though, they’s hoppin’ mad about something down there in Brasilia, storming the palace that da Silva has barely had time to move into, and demanding the re-installation of his predecessor – that rascally Bolsonaro — in his stead.
Under other circumstances, I presume the media would be running an endless Santos loop and collecting mad advertising Benjaminz for doing so. But there are bigger Congressional fish to fry. Most notably the gleeful, overwrought saga of the Republicans electing a Speaker. For my part, I am less troubled by the spectacle than I am about the concessions made in the associated negotiations. Which will be difficult to reverse. Most prominent of these, as I understand it, is a new clause under which any single coalition member can call for newly crowned McCarthy to (ominously) “vacate the seat”. Best case, it will render presiding over the GOP Caucus a decidedly Quixotic task and bring great comfort to/convey significant benefit upon, their political opposite numbers.
One does expect a few oddballs in any Congressional Coalition, but gosh oh mighty, they gotta be managed. Say what you will about Pelosi, who had The Squad with which to contend. But she kept them (insert female anthropomorphic word that I am to chicken-shit to type) in line.
We are living in an expanding cycle where small numbers of members are able to disrupt legislative consensus. This can be good and bad. I personally believe that the less they do on Capitol Hill the better off we are. But it ain’t a good look. Two Senators: Manchin and Simena, provided instructive example, and in doing so, saved the country from a suicidal spending binge, but it came at the cost of deeply diluting the power of the Senatorial majority.
All of this stands out to me because I am about to publish a book that I wrote with former House Majority Leader Richard Gephardt. Which I shall want you all to buy. And, as this momentous event approaches, I will expand the amplitude of my shilling. It is part memoir/part object lesson in the importance of preserving the protocols of Majority Rule – a concept under serious attack of late.
It’s coming out in a few weeks. Trust me – I’ll let you know. Meantime, this here is the cover:
Before you ask – yes, I was a bit disappointed at the relative by-line font sizes. But how you gonna argue with a former House Majority Leader?
I’m not sure why, but the cover art also somehow reminds me of that of Jefferson Airplane’s “After Bathing at Baxter’s”, which, for reasons I cannot explain, was the first true rock album I ever owned.
Leader Gephardt and I disagree on certain matters of polity, but we both are passionately enamored of the protocols that drive the legislative process, which we both believe have been rudely and increasingly abused of late.
The Majority Party ought, under any circumstances, to be able to elect a Speaker in < 15 rounds. Lying liars like Santos should be, I don’t know – adjudicated?
But it seems like nothing works the way it once did, and, while this is an eternal geezer lament, the pace of change seems to be accelerating.
Many justifiably blame the virus for the acceleration. And it’s certainly a contributing factor. Our response was both heroic and shameful. On the plus side, we – individuals and institutions – gathered ourselves to attack it, and, by doing so, almost certainly saved untold blood and treasure. New technologies (most notably biotech and telecommunications-related), which we have barely begun to harvest, have transformed the future landscape.
But it seems as though we cannot take any form of hardship anymore – without, that is, falling apart. With no offense intended, we received a prime example of this with that heart attack during the Bengals/Bills game. Upon recognizing the seriousness of the medical emergency, officials suspended the action, later deciding to nullify the game entirely. As if it never was played. And anyone who, for a moment, questioned this was rudely castigated.
Heart patient Hamlin is thankfully on the mend. But back in ’71, and by contrast, a dude suffered a fatal cardiac arrest during Bears/Lions, they carted him off the field, and the action resumed.
Most of us would call this progress, and I won’t argue the point. But – not gonna lie — the withering outrage that anyone would even dare to discuss the (significant) playoff implications of failing to finish the contest is, in my judgment, de trop.
In general, and in addition to the externally catalyzed madness imposed upon us, it seems as though our emotional stability, flexibility, adaptability, is on the wane.
And I can’t help but feeling that this is coming a critical pass, that not only will our present rapidly become our past, but that the current conversion process will have larger than normal implications.
’23 thus unfolds as a year where I believe our actions set up so as to be more deeply embedded in the future than is routinely the case.
The markets will communicate a great deal. By the time it all winds down, whither Inflation, Interest Rates, Equity Prices, Commodity Prices; heck, even Crypto Prices dwell will be deeply telling. Regaining vigor implies one set of outcomes; a continued wallowing in nervous exhaustion another.
And, right now, we just don’t know. There are reasons to suspect that risk assets are poised for, if not a recovery, then, at least a “low-bar” improvement over ’22. Nobody can quibble (much) with the Jobs Report. Energy prices are miraculously subdued. Inflation metrics are projected to decline to a 6 handle – down from the 9’s (CPI) and 10’s (PPI) registered this past Summer. Q4 GDP estimates are in the high 3’s.
If Inflation continues to slide, if Crude Oil does not resurge, if Employment remains robustly controlled. If the GOP-led House does not implode.
Then, I say, there might be some pretty good bargains out there in risk asset-land. But that’s a lot of ifs. A great deal could go wrong between here and there. And probably will.
But I don’t need to tell portfolio managers that the present quickly transforms into the past, the irrevocable past. Because today’s returns are transformed into tomorrow’s track record – its irrevocable track record.
And, addressing a broader audience, if we can drop our paranoia, our self-victimization, our focus on the wrongs committed by others, and replace it with thoughts and efforts as to how we can do better, then, maybe, we can unleash all that fallow new technology, re-invigorate our present into a past of which we can be proud.
It just seems to me that there’s more riding on these outcomes this year than even normal.
Ideally, the best thing you could do in the present would be to buy our new book. But you can’t. Because it isn’t out yet. It will be, soon, and eventually, perhaps with your help, it will share a prominent place in the political commentary of the (by then long passed) present day.
It will be a day in future. And it too will pass. Again. Once upon a time. In your wildest dreams.
TIMSHEL